I am on a quest. I am on a quest that is requiring more courage than I ever thought I’d need, quite frankly, and it’s making me think entirely too hard about why that is.
You see, I want to cut my hair.
Right now my hair is the longest it has ever been. It is past my shoulders. What this means is that I can wear it either blowout straight or let it air dry and enjoy the natural curls G-d has given me that I’ve never been entirely comfortable with. It means up-dos and one killer ponytail. I means I could braid it if I so chose even though I have no idea how to braid. I can topknot like you would not believe. It is compliments on my mane like the astrological lionness that I am.
At the age of 42 it is everything “hair” I never had growing up that I always wanted.
It is also 1.5 hours of time washing to finishing spray, start to finish. More recently it is $50 a pop in blowouts because I simply cannot physically blowdry my hair. It is in need of root touch ups and, if I’m being truthful, it is in need of a two-inch trim to account for some damaged ends.
It is becoming a weight. More often than not it is in a ponytail, sleek, but not styled. It keeps getting caught under my purse shoulder straps. I have to plan my week around these blowouts. Blowouts I used to LOVE have become an annoyance in a busy week. Although the cut is solid, there are days it feels less than stylish.
And so, for the past several weeks, I’ve been looking for the right “short” cut. This could mean eight inches, maybe more. Either way, it will be a drastic change.
I’m having something of a Samson-crisis. My hair is a defining piece of my self-image. It is, in many ways, a part of my inner power. I fear I’ll regret doing it. I fear I’ll hate it. I fear it won’t grow back out in time for Leah’s bat mitzvah in April of 2014. More truthfully, I fear it will “age” me – or be “mom” hair.
I want it to be liberating. I want it to be sleek, or sassy, or sexy – and I want it to still bring me power like a g-ddamned Pantene commercial.
I’m considering a one-two punch of a lunch cocktail, cutting off my hair and then going straight to a favorite makeup counter and getting an update on some killer eye makeup so that it’s less about my hair and more about a new overall look for 2013. It’s a coping mechanism, I know.
It aggravates me that I am thinking so hard about this. It would be easier for me to decide to get a tattoo than chop off my hair right now. IT’S JUST HAIR, PAM. But, it isn’t.
But it is.
Sarah is considering going from her long locks to a pixie cut. I raise my champagne glass to her for I could never go that short on purpose. Erika famously went Madonna Truth-or-Dare blonde. My transformation will not be THAT dramatic, but I am considering (endlessly!) some version of the images above.
And that’s where we are right now: Considering. Anyone got a cattle prod?